


like glowing

by helwolves



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing Practice, M/M, Someone Please Save Kuroo, Subverted Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/pseuds/helwolves
Summary: “But how do Iknow?”“Well, you could just kiss him.”“What? No, I—no. What if he doesn’t want to be kissed?”“You could... ask him first?”“Absolutely not.”“Kuroo-san...”“Oh, dude, I know exactly what you should do!”





	like glowing

**Author's Note:**

> Here for all your "Kuroo is a mess and Kenma is savage" needs. I started writing this ages ago, as a quick distraction from other things I was working on, but it got away from me. Now I'm reminding myself that no writing is ever truly finished, just reaches the point where you stop, etc. Hopefully I stopped at a good point. P.S. Kuroo, I love you, and I'm sorry.

_“You sound like you’re seriously considering taking this advice, Kuroo-san.”_

_“Hey, hey, what’s that supposed to mean? It is **awesome** advice.”_

_“Well... I can’t exactly tell him the **truth** , can I?”_

_“...obviously.”_

_“One more, Akaashi!!”_

_“Aww, wait, are you trying to protect him? From **me**? That’s—”_

_“I don’t think Kozume’s the one who needs protection.”_

_“Hey, we gonna talk about feelings all night or we gonna— **aghh**! Not the hair! Ahahaha, **Kuroooo**!”_

  


★

  


Tetsurou knew, on several levels, that it really _was_ a terrible idea. As many of Bokuto’s ideas were, even the ones he didn’t pilfer from the sort of manga neither of them would want to be caught reading in public. But Tetsurou had become a desperate man, and decided that one could not stand to let things such as cold, unfeeling logic interfere with matters of the heart. Or something like that.

It just wouldn’t do to keep going on like this. With national qualifiers coming up, and his birthday, and university exams, and graduation after that, and... well, Tetsurou had a lot of things he should have been worrying about besides confessing to his best friend. He had to—had to make a move, make a decision. For better or worse. But as much as he trusted Kenma and had faith in the tenacity of their friendship, he couldn’t just come out and say it. Not if he wasn’t sure.

What if he was just confused, mistaking a decade of friendship and hazy teenage lust for the other sort of love? What if he made Kenma confused? Sometimes he wondered whether Kenma was even interested in these things, let alone would ever be interested in _him_. The thought of Kenma getting that kind of look in his eyes—bewilderment? pity? fear?—when staring back at him... He just _couldn’t_.

But if he didn’t do something about the situation soon, he was definitely going to shoot right past the maximum sustainable threshold of suppressed affection and sexual frustration, summarily implode, and burst into a supernova of pure embarrassment that would—

“Kuro... do you need to use the bathroom?”

“ _What_ ,” he yelped, way too loudly. “No. What?”

This. This was exactly the problem. Things had gotten weird. When had he gone from being able to sit like a normal person, sprawled on his bed with his best friend lounging between his outstretched legs, to—

Wait, was that weird? That was probably weird.

Had things between them always been weird?

Kenma huffed. “You made me blow three combos in a row. Stop fidgeting.”

Kenma’s elbows dug into Tetsurou’s thighs in a not-at-all-pleasant way as he adjusted his position, careful fingertips and sharp eyes never leaving his phone’s screen. Tetsurou endured all of this nobly as one does a cat’s claws when it deigns to lap-sit and knead.

“Hey, Kenma.”

Fuck. Now? He was really doing this _now_?

“Mm?” It was barely audible over the sound of his game, but Kenma was listening. Really, he was always listening, even when he didn’t look it.

“Have you ever... I mean. I was... wondering if you’d help me with something,” Tetsurou managed. Maybe he should have rehearsed this.

“Does it involve getting up?” Kenma asked, the branches of the next part of this conversation tree already obvious in his tone.

“Not... exactly?”

Kenma paused his game. The cheery, repeating tune of the menu screen somehow wreaked more havoc on Tetsurou’s nerves than the anticipation of what he knew had to come next.

Twisting in Tetsurou’s lap to look him in the face, Kenma propped himself up with one arm on his chest. _Well?_ said that pointed stare, those pretty golden eyes that gave Tetsurou endless daydreams, and occasional nightmares. Tetsurou swallowed hard.

  


★

  


_“But how do I **know**?”_

_“Well, you could just kiss him.”_

_“What? No, I—no. What if he doesn’t want to be kissed?”_

_“You could... ask him first?”_

_“Absolutely not.”_

_“Kuroo-san...”_

_“Oh, dude, I know exactly what you should do!”_

  


★

  


“Iwasthinkingweshouldpracticekissing.”

Kenma blinked up at him, slowly. Tetsurou hadn’t exactly expected Kenma to dart off, or even blush, or do anything cute and romantic like that. He didn’t think Kenma would laugh, though there was a chance. But he maybe expected _some_ reaction, something besides—

“Okay.”

“Because, like, I’m gonna graduate soon, and I’ve never... and you’ve... It doesn’t have to be weird, because we’re best friends, right? Honestly, I can’t believe we didn’t do it years ago, just to get our first ones over with, I mean. But we could—”

“ _Kuro_.”

“Huh?”

There was a way-too-adorable subtle quirk to Kenma’s lips, which Tetsurou noticed once he’d stopped babbling long enough to lock eyes with him again and then let his gaze drift lower. “I said okay. I don’t mind.”

It took a few seconds for Tetsurou’s neurons to start firing again after that, for his heart to resume its quickened rhythm. He hadn’t really thought it would get this far. Never expected to find himself in his bed with Kenma half on top of him and pinning him with golden eyes full of the kind of open amusement and sharp curiosity usually reserved for a midnight game release or a message from a diminutive crow.

And then Kenma was leaning closer, one flat palm burning a five-pointed hole straight through Tetsurou’s chest where it rested. “You’re really embarrassing,” he said very quietly, and his breath ghosted warm against Tetsurou’s mouth.

“Am _nn_ —”

The quick, rough press of Kenma’s lips to Tetsurou’s parted ones killed the weak denial, replacing it with (not that he’d admit it) an _embarrassing_ noise that sputtered out somewhere between gasp and laugh.

Kenma pulled away just as quickly as he’d darted in, though he didn’t go far. Tetsurou had closed his eyes, but could feel him there—could feel the very ions in the air shift as Kenma leaned back in.

He swept his hands back through Kenma’s pale hair and held them there, just enough to keep the coarse strands from tangling between their faces. Kenma seemed to approve of this—he hummed softly, slid himself further up Tetsurou’s body, and Tetsurou let one hand drift down to the small of Kenma’s back in encouragement.

Kenma’s lips always looked a little rough-bitten, and had felt that way too, but he must have licked them in the moment he’d taken to reposition himself before pressing closer for a third kiss. And a fourth. And then something more like one long, tortuous mingling of lips and warm breaths and the slickness of a curious tongue—something that meant Tetsurou was quickly losing count.

When Kenma pulled away this time, Tetsurou’s eyes snapped open wide, and all he could do was stare and try to catch his breath.

It was Kenma’s turn to push the hair out of Tetsurou’s face, which he did with the smallest curve of a smirk, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s with that face?”

Tetsurou found he could only blink and stare more. His mouth tingled with the aftershocks of pressure from Kenma’s kisses.

_Kenma’s kisses._

“Uh. Kuro?” Kenma’s voice took on an uncertainty that Tetsurou couldn’t stand for. “Are you— _ah_!”

Tetsurou tightened his arms around Kenma and flipped them onto their sides in one swift movement. He reveled in the feeling of being able to wrap himself around Kenma like that, in this moment, and of having Kenma arch against him, squirming closer to fill in all the spaces where they hadn’t already been touching.

“Oh,” said Kenma, maybe, as Tetsurou leaned in for another lingering kiss.

He had definitely lost count.

  


★

  


The next day, Tetsurou was an absolute mess.

Not that this was very far from his usual state of being, but in different ways. He’d been caught staring out the window more than once, oblivious to his teachers’ questions. He’d gotten a quiz back with less than perfect marks, which he thought he’d studied more than enough for. He’d definitely had to go change into his spare shirt after overenthusiastically stabbing the straw into his juice at lunch (at least that had provided endless entertainment for Kai).

At practice, he was pretty sure Kenma deliberately set more than one ball directly towards his head, just to make sure he was paying attention.

Which he wasn’t.

He could barely look at Kenma without thinking—in graphic detail—about his mouth. His clever, dangerous, addictive mouth. And how it had felt to be tangled up on the bed together, kissing and kissing, overwhelming and yet not nearly enough. And how the kissing had shifted into snuggling, then into Tetsurou dozing with his head on Kenma’s stomach until Kenma eventually shoved him to his feet and he scuttled home without a further word about what they’d done. And how Tetsurou was a terrible, awful, very gross sort of friend for taking advantage of their closeness and Kenma’s general ambivalence and—

He was so fucked.

He barely managed to dodge those tosses, and barely registered the salient looks Kenma was shooting him as he sent them flying.

  


★

  


After practice, Tetsurou in his distraction took so long to finish his usual cleanup duties and get changed that almost everyone else had given up and gone on ahead. He could hear the music from Kenma’s PSP, though, echoing from just beyond the club room door.

They didn’t _always_ take the train home together, but it was assumed unless otherwise specified—when Tetsurou had some extra study session or similar, those rare times Kenma walked to the train station with only Yamamoto keeping him from wandering into early evening traffic. So of course Kenma would have waited. He wasn’t the one avoiding even looking at his best friend, wading through his day in a daze, both dizzily happy and so crushingly guilt-ridden all at once.

Tetsurou had just finished re-tying his sneakers when he realized Kenma had snuck up on him. “Shit—!” He plastered on a big grin that he knew didn’t make it quite far enough to crinkle his tired eyes, but it couldn’t be helped. “You’re too quiet.”

“You just weren’t paying attention.”

Tetsurou shrugged, then leaned back with his palms on the bench to look up at Kenma standing in front of him.

Then nearly fell off the bench as Kenma sighed heavily and dropped himself into Tetsurou’s lap.

It wasn’t that this was the _first_ time he’d ever done it, far from, but before it had only been, in Tetsurou’s memory, when there weren’t any other available seats. But crowded rush hour trains and movie nights with more lanky teenage boys than could reasonably fit in someone’s living room were different from a nearly empty club room.

“Kuro?”

“Hm?”

“I said you look like shit today.”

Tetsurou snorted, letting his head drop onto Kenma’s shoulder. “We can’t all be as effortlessly gorgeous as you every day, Ken-chan.”

Kenma’s small noise of disgust sent a warm wave of fondness through Tetsurou’s chest, cutting into the morass of feelings that had been darkening there. Then his hand was on the back of Tetsurou’s neck, a little cold but with just the right amount of pressure, giving a quick squeeze before it slid further. His fingers buried in Tetsurou’s hair—a gentle tug, the slight scrape of rough nails against his scalp.

It felt so, so good, and Tetsurou pressed his face closer into the nook where Kenma’s neck curved. He fought down the sudden urge to find out whether Kenma’s skin would taste salty from practice, and let himself just breathe.

“Really, is something—?”

“Just a bad day,” Tetsurou only partly lied.

“Mm.”

Kenma tugged at his hair again, pulling his head back just enough to look at him straight on. Usually that stare didn’t unnerve Tetsurou the way it did strangers, or players on the other side of a volleyball net, but today... today he had to look away. But it was totally _not_ because Kenma’s lips were so close to his and making it very difficult for him to keep any sort of grip on his self-control and dignity.

Kenma knocked his forehead into Tetsurou’s then, gently, and stayed there, letting their breath mingle. Tetsurou only had to tilt his head a little, and they were kissing again.

His arms had been loosely wrapped around Kenma’s waist, but he immediately pulled him in tighter as Kenma slid his around Tetsurou’s shoulders, one hand still making even more of a mess of Tetsurou’s hair. There was an impatience to Kenma’s movements—the way he shifted in Tetsurou’s lap, the way his lips were already parted and slick, and his pointed tongue darted out to push into Tetsurou’s mouth.

Tetsurou groaned, feeling his face heat at the involuntary noise, but Kenma swallowed it up, licked at Tetsurou’s tongue, grazed his teeth around Tetsurou’s bottom lip until his head spun. It wasn’t that surprising to him that Kenma was really fucking good at this—he was frighteningly intuitive and observant, after all—but it was a lot to process all at once.

They were both panting when they finally separated. Tetsurou felt like he’d just sprinted a half marathon. He felt about to float off into the exosphere, with just the weight of Kenma in his lap keeping him anchored to the earth, assuring him this wasn’t a mere stress-induced hallucination.

He felt like glowing, he felt amazing, he felt—suddenly hit with the realization that he had really fucked up. Gotten lost in the moment and taken advantage of the situation _again_.

“Ah, shit, Kenma, I—”

The sound of a door slamming nearby echoed through the room—certainly a teacher making the rounds to see if all the clubs had locked up properly at the end of their activities—and Kenma jolted, looking spooked. Footsteps approached and Kenma pushed off of Tetsurou completely. Eyes fixed on the floor, he made for the exit, pulling on his bag and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he moved. His cheeks were pink where Tetsurou could see his face through the sweep of his hair, and Tetsurou struggled to rein in his pounding heart.

“Come on,” Kenma said over his shoulder. “Or do I have to aim another toss at your head?”

“...I _knew_ it!”

  


★

  


What followed was the most awkward train ride of Tetsurou’s life.

Kenma, usually the self-declared crown prince of awkward, seemed eerily unfazed, tucked between him and the train car wall, eyes fixed on his PSP, thumbs dancing.

Tetsurou had no idea how Kenma could focus on any sort of monster hunting when his own mouth still felt kiss-bruised. When their thighs were touching like that. At least there was the cold mask to block him from staring too conspicuously at Kenma’s lips.

  


★

  


“Um. You’re going home?”

Some dazzling combination of denial and hope had led Tetsurou to think that if he just kept walking past Kenma’s house to his own, casual-like, he could escape the awkwardness, at least for the rest of the night while he figured out how to deal with all of this. But Kenma’s tone had an unfamiliar thread of hurt laced beneath its usual indifference, and it made Tetsurou stop in his tracks.

Kenma tilted his head while waiting for an answer, which let some of his hair swing out of place. He tucked it behind his ear again while eyeing Tetsurou skeptically.

“No, sorry, of course not, I was just... thinking.”

Kenma stared for another few seconds, then let out the breath he’d been holding. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Tetsurou shoulder-checked Kenma as he brushed past him to make it into the house first.

After raiding the kitchen for some much-needed post-practice muscle recovery snacks, they retreated to Kenma’s bedroom. Tetsurou flopped onto the bed with his history textbook and thumbed to the chapter he needed to read for tomorrow. Kenma folded his legs under himself at the foot of the bed and woke up his PS4, and Tetsurou decided he’d let it go for a while before prodding him to do his own homework before it got too late.

With a full belly, and surrounded by the familiar quiet and the room’s vague Kenma-y smells, Tetsurou felt himself truly relaxing for the first time all day.

Still, something was... not quite right.

Maybe it was how he began to have the feeling that he was being watched. Or, more accurately, glared at.

Every time he glanced up from his book, though, Kenma had turned back to face the TV—until finally he caught him. Staring, and biting the ragged skin beside his thumbnail. With teeth that Tetsurou would have sworn he could still feel the impression of in his own lip.

“What?” Kenma asked.

“ _What_ what?”

Kenma rolled his eyes at the false-innocent grin Tetsurou was flashing and turned back to his game.

Tetsurou made it through almost all of his reading before he was hit by _exactly_ what was so different between this night and hundreds of others.

“Hey, are you mad at me?” he blurted out before the rational side of his brain had a chance to intervene.

Kenma gave a flicker of a sidelong glance through his hair. “Why?”

_That wasn’t a no._

Tetsurou tried to tamp down his rising panic, but the odd sensation that had been coalescing inside him throughout the day began to feel very heavy and ice cold. “I mean, you—you’re—”

_You’re not laying on top of me._

Most days, Kenma would have been using him like some kind of long, lumpy couch cushion by now, but he had been carefully—deliberately?—perched as far away as he could possibly manage while still technically being seated on his own bed and not the floor.

Kenma set his controller down (never a good sign) and swung around to lean against the wall with his legs stretched out and arms wrapped around himself. “I’m not mad at you,” he said to his own shifting, sockless feet.

“Then why do you keep—” Tetsurou waved his hands in Kenma’s general direction and shot him an approximation of his own unnerving glare. “That.”

Kenma huffed. “You’re being weird.”

“Ha, well,” Tetsurou conceded, looking away. He wasn’t wrong. “I—”

“It isn’t like you, not making us practice a new technique over and over.”

“—what.”

“I thought you’d ask again, but you didn’t.”

Tetsurou let out a choked noise. “You. You wanted to—”

“Ah, I meant—” Kenma backpedaled, eyes gone wide, but it was no good.

Tetsurou had already stomped to his feet and pointed at him. “You _wanted_ to!”

Kenma, his precious and beautiful and terrible Kenma, the human embodiment of a single shrug emoji, was annoyed over _wanting to kiss him_.

The sort of grin that sliced across Tetsurou’s face would usually make Kenma kick him in the ankle, for starters, but instead Kenma just looked up at him with huge eyes and the tiniest frown. Tetsurou grabbed Kenma’s feet and tugged him to the edge of the bed, then dropped to kneel on the floor between his bent legs while Kenma laughed and swore and righted himself.

Tetsurou smirked up at him. “I was really worried, you little shit.”

“I sat in your lap and sucked on your tongue in the club room,” he said, looking less fazed than he probably should have been.

“ _Kenma_.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you want to _kiss_.”

Tetsurou leaned up and pushed Kenma backwards onto the bed, looming over him a little. “Right?” he purred, leaning in to nuzzle at the soft angle of Kenma’s jaw. The way Kenma’s breath caught, the way his bright eyes had narrowed and focused low—Tetsurou probably didn’t have to ask, but he wanted to drag an answer out of him anyway.

Kenma shuddered and clutched at the front of Tetsurou’s hoodie, urging him even closer. Running on raw instinct, a surge of dizzying lust, and maybe the buried memories of one too many late-night dramas, Tetsurou pressed Kenma into the bed with the weight of his body and mouthed up the side of his neck, feeling the pulse under his tongue, then gently sucked at the most tempting spot.

It _was_ kind of salty.

“ _Ah_...”

The little moan that escaped Kenma made Tetsurou feel like he’d just won nationals. He guessed, anyway. It wasn’t quite a straight answer, but it was enough. He grinned, huge and shameless and hidden against Kenma’s collarbone.

“Kuro,” Kenma breathed, tugging on Tetsurou’s hair, tugging at the unzipped edges of his hoodie until it slipped off his shoulders and tangled his arms. “Can I—”

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck, here—” He sat back on his heels just long enough to shrug his hoodie the rest of the way off and toss it, while Kenma’s mouth became a small, sharp angle as he leaned up on his elbows and stared at Tetsurou in a way that made him feel not unlike something hanging upside down in the market.

“This too,” Kenma said, fingers brushing along the stretched-out collar of Tetsurou’s t-shirt.

Tetsurou wasn’t sure whether it sounded more like a question or a demand—not that it mattered, because he was yanking the shirt over his shoulders almost before Kenma finished saying it. He made as if to lean over Kenma again, to press him into the mattress and get right back to it with a few less layers of clothing between them—but instead he was shoved at until Kenma had gotten him onto his back, and crawled on top of him.

He was beginning to feel weightless again.

Kenma slid his palms down Tetsurou’s bare chest, straight from neck to hip bones, dragging him back down to earth and then some. His hands rested there, fingers twitching just at the band of Tetsurou’s track pants.

The flush that had spread across Tetsurou’s chest was burning even more under Kenma’s direct attention, at his own body’s very obvious responses—how he shuddered, and struggled not to roll his hips up into Kenma’s solid warmth. Kenma’s nails were short but Tetsurou could feel their sharp edges pressing into his skin, wanted to feel more...

Kenma stared down at him with a funny half pout.

“What?” Tetsurou asked, blinking to get some of his focus back. He resisted the urge to poke at one slightly puffed-out cheek.

“You look weird from this angle.”

Tetsurou might have laughed, but instead all that came out was: “You look incredible.”

Kenma’s face twisted in an adorable blend of irritated and flustered that Tetsurou had never seen on him before, could never have anticipated, and it did a number on his already overwhelmed heart.

Then Kenma flopped forward heavily, burying his face against Tetsurou’s neck.

“Hey,” Tetsurou breathed, pressing a soft kiss to Kenma’s temple. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Kenma said, muffled. His hair caught on Tetsurou’s eyelashes, tickled his nose as it moved.

“You know we can—I mean, whatever you want.”

Kenma sighed into Tetsurou’s shoulder. “It’s weird,” he said. “And I don’t know what I’m...” He pushed himself back up, just enough so their eyes could meet. “But I _want_ to.”

Tetsurou had braced himself for what he might see there, but Kenma didn’t look scared or pitying, confused or bored. He might have called it _fierce_ , that sharpness, bare intention, a bright heat. It sent a different sort of shiver through him.

“Well,” Tetsurou said, after catching his breath, “we can practice as much as you like.”

Kenma clapped one hand over the accompanying huge, crooked grin and leaned back in until his teeth met Tetsurou’s bared throat.

  


★

  


With Kenma wrapped in his arms, and Kenma’s legs tangled between and around his, something had still settled heavy on Tetsurou’s chest like an unwelcomed night spirit. He fidgeted, wanting to seek reassurance in the warm, contented expression he’d seen earlier on Kenma’s face, but he was thwarted by the folds of his hoodie that Kenma had thoroughly burrowed himself into for a nap.

“Oi. Kenma.”

“Mmn,” the folds of Tetsurou’s hoodie mumbled.

“Listen, I—could you—no, maybe this will be easier if you’re not staring at me.”

Kenma wriggled a bit. “It’s fine,” he said. “I know.”

“You _know_ —” Tetsurou’s face went hot. He should really learn when to stop talking. “Right,” he stumbled on anyway, “maybe confessing after... _that_ would be more of a formality.” The weight on his chest was easing, though, more so when he realized Kenma was laughing quietly against him. “But, no, I meant—”

“I know the other thing too.” Kenma grunted softly as he shuffled backwards, meeting Tetsurou’s gaze for a moment before his face crinkled into a deep yawn.

“But I—”

“Kuro,” Kenma cut him off, suddenly looking very much awake “‘Let’s practice kissing,’ really? If you’re telling me you seriously thought I wouldn’t get what you were trying to do, I’m kicking you onto the floor in five seconds.”

Tetsurou’s face burned more. “ _Well_ , you still might’ve—”

“And if you thought I’d—” Kenma made a complicated gesture between them. “—if I didn’t _want_ to?”

“It’s not that I was trying to trick you! I just... was tricking... myself?”

Kenma pinched Tetsurou’s forearm, but gently. “You could have just asked.”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Tetsurou groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “Hey, but—”

“Maybe if you asked, you could’ve been my first kiss too.”

“— _what_?”

“ _Don’t_.” Kenma sighed, rolling onto his back. “Shouyou... wanted to practice too. At training camp.” He shrugged, in a horizontal sort of way, before retreating deeper into Tetsurou’s much-too-large and thus much-too-distractingly-adorable hoodie.

“Kenma! Fuck. I knew that one was trouble. Wait till we see those guys again, I need to tell Sawamura-kun to keep a better grip on his fledglings...”

Two golden eyes flashed from the gap between pulled strings and unzipped zippers. “Shouyou never has ulterior motives, though. Unlike someone else I know. He was, like—he actually thought that’s a thing everyone is supposed to do?” Kenma started laughing again, and Tetsurou tried not to swoon.

“Oh my god. Wait—if it was just practice, that doesn’t count as your first, right?” He shot Kenma a smirk of the sort that would usually earn him a five or six on the eye-rolling scale.

Kenma did not disappoint, then shrugged again. “I’m pretty sure he just wants to kiss his scary setter anyway.”

“So,” Tetsurou asked, once he’d managed to stop cackling, “do I get to keep kissing _my_ scary setter?”

“Ugh. Am not.”

Tetsurou rolled on top of Kenma, pushing the hood from his face and smoothing back the wildest strands of pale hair. “What? Scary, or mine?”

“Yet to be determined.”

The way Kenma could barely get that out before his lips curved into a soft smile made Tetsurou’s heart dance, and he leaned in to kiss them again and again.

  


★

  


_“So then Kenma was like—”_

_“Sorry, how is this remotely relevant to this meeting?”_

_“Silence, Yakkun. It’s only relevant to my **entire** earthly existence.”_

_“I’m happy to hear you’ve worked out your adolescent crush bullshit that **literally** everyone was waiting for you to work out, but—”_

_“I’m happy too!!”_

_“You’re just happy an idea of yours actually worked for once.”_

_“Not that it really worked as **intended**...”_

_“Aww, Kuroo-kun, come on. Let me have this!”_

_“Is that what Kenma said?”_

_“Oh my fucking god, I’m going home.”_

**Author's Note:**

> RTs/reblogs appreciated: [twitter](https://twitter.com/helwolves/status/868624547645456384) ★ [tumblr](https://helwolves.tumblr.com/post/161145538922/like-glowing)


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